


A Boy & His Werecoyote

by stanchezsloppyseconds



Category: Rick and Morty
Genre: AU, Dimension S-729, Gen, Were-Coyote, a boy and his big scary dog grandpa, and some soft angsty feels, chupacabra, warning for discussion of mange
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-03
Updated: 2018-05-03
Packaged: 2019-05-01 06:11:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14514228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stanchezsloppyseconds/pseuds/stanchezsloppyseconds
Summary: Months after his gradfather caught a bad case of lycanthropy, Morty has been visiting Rick in the abandoned missile silo he quarantined himself to while trying to find a cure. Lately Rick seems to have given up on curing himself as well as bothering with being human at all, and his grandson is starting to wonder how much of his grandpa is left in that old coyote. Featuring a squeaky dog chew toy.





	A Boy & His Werecoyote

Glancing nervously at the orange rubber spiked squeaky toy in his sweaty hand before stuffing it back into his backpack, Morty took a deep breath and pushed the button to call the lift. The missile silo was quiet, still, and dark tonight. Not unusual these days since Rick didn't need the lights unless he was human... something Morty hadn't seen him be in too many weeks to keep count any more. Turning on the main generator so he would be able to see, Morty was sure his arrival was already noted but he called out as the lift came to a halt anyways.

"H-hey Rick, it's just me... like uh it al-always is" he shouted as he made his way through the main lab, still finding no sign of his grandfather. "Common. You in here?"

Rick was supposed to stay in the silo, quarantined. But it was no shock to his grandson that he wasn't sticking to that rule. It seemed cruel anyways to keep him locked up like that, so while Morty was everyday anxiously keeping an eye on the local tabloids online to know when there'd been reports of odd cattle deaths in the nearby town, or odd monster sightings, he didn't scold Rick for it. If anything, it was somewhat comforting to know that he could still work the lift on his own to get in and out. Meant he was still sharp enough to know at least that much.

There was a clink of something falling off a shifted desk behind him, and Morty caught a moving shadow in his peripheral just before he was pushed over from behind.

"Oof hey! Ow-Ouch watch it!" the kid laughed as he tumbled on the floor. An excited growl replied as the large coyote circled around him. Waiting a moment for the boy to move, Rick let out a short howl.

"Alright, alright, I'm getting up. Geez. You'r-you’re the jackass who shoved me over." Morty said as he tried his best to brush off the dirty paw prints from the back of his hoodie and got to his feet, "well someone’s in a good mood tonight"

A short sniffing huff of air and a gruff bark seemed to agree.

"You been itching again?" Morty asked with a frown as he watched Rick scratch at behind his ear with his hind paw. Rick's fur was patchier than ever, and the bare skin visible from the balding was scabbed and crusted in places. He'd never been a pretty to look at beast, but he was definitely looking... unpleasant. "We really should do something about that before you have no fur left at all."

The kid reached out to try and offer help scratching the persistent itch but Rick was quick to growl, the sound much harsher this time, sharp gapped teeth bared in what Morty was fairly certain was empty threat but it was a clear communication not to touch. Rick knew better than to bite him. Or at least Morty was pretty confident he still knew not to.

"N-no touching still. Okay. Got it." Morty sighed "I looked it up, you know. Mange. You don't-don't want me touching cause I could get it too r-right? I'm not so stupid I can't google that stuff, Rick."

The coyote made no indication of understanding what had been said, but Morty chose to hold onto that reasoning. It was better than the other option of believing that Rick had been like this so long he'd become nothing more than an oversized feral animal that didn't trust human contact.

"It's easy to cure, but you know that, obviously. Even dumb Earth medicine can fix it. If you needed I-I could get you some Permethrin cream and he-help with putting it on." He expected protest to this, but instead the coyote just seemed bored and started to wander off. It was not a reassuring response, but Morty tagged along following after him trying another approach "Or if y-you've got some fancy alien science way to fix it fast-faster we-w-we could do that too?"

The internet had also told Morty that a canine scabies infection was highly painfully itchy and when left untreated the persistent scratching at the skin buried mites causing the problem could create worse issues ranging from blindness if it spread to the face, or even fatality if the sores got infected. It would not be a dignified or glamorous way to go. Certainly not an end that his genius grandfather should have to meet when it could be avoided.

But it was apparent that this conversation wasn't getting anywhere tonight. Most conversations with Rick were very one sided these days anyways. What with him not being able to talk. There was usually just enough response to some topics though that Morty knew he wasn't just your average wild dog. Not that it was easy to mistake a four foot tall blue coyote with mange and oddly disproportionate limbs for a normal animal anyways.

"So I uh, I b-brought some extra steaks this time" Morty said shifting the conversation topic to one he usually had better luck with getting a response from. Food was a language Rick definitely still spoke. "Got a- I've got a big test I need to study for, so I might not be around for a few nights. You can keep them in the fridge if you at least leave the backup generator running on low."

This earned a small snort of acknowledgement. Or maybe that was just a sneeze. It was hard to tell.

"You can have two for now and I'll put the others away for later" Morty explained pulling his backpack open to grab the paper wrapped meat he'd picked up at the butcher shop with Rick's provided dwindling credit card. When he pulled the meat out though it shifted the contents of the bag and a long wheezing squeak made Morty freeze.

There was no doubt that Rick had definitely noticed that, and was now also equally frozen, staring at the bag. Well shit.

"Haha oops. Uh. Guess that ss-sa-surprise is ruined." Morty said sheepishly as he set aside the bundle of meat and picked up the dog toy from his bag. He felt sharp yellow eyes watching him scrutinizingly, and immediately regretted this stupid idea but there was no going back now. Standing up and holding the orange spiked ball out with a playful squeeze that made it squeak again, Morty tried to regain some composure but mostly just stammered his way through trying his best to avoid saying the F word.  
"I er- was thinking- I mean I thought maybe we could... play catch?"

Whatever you do, don't call it _fetch_.

 

[ ](http://stanchez-sloppy-seconds.tumblr.com/tagged/chupacabrick)

Rick's unenthusiastic glare didn't change. This was somehow both simultaneously the harshest shut down to something Morty had suggested in a long while and the most comfortingly recognizably Rick thing. He could almost hear the berating ranting in his head. It hurt, but also reassured him that maybe in some way his grandpa was still in there somewhere.

"Aw geez" Morty said with a slight laugh at himself as he rubbed at the back of his head and let the ball slip back into his bag "don't have to tell me tw-twice."

Yet his smile faltered a bit when Rick finally stopped staring at him judgingly and went to sniffing at the packaged meat instead, ignoring him again in favour of food. A pit sat heavy in Morty's stomach and he wondered why. Of course it had been silly to think Rick would want to play a childish game with him like some sort of pet. He was too smart for that sort of stuff. With how much he'd been doubting if much of Rick was still well... Rick, shouldn't he be thrilled that the old curmudgeon was refusing to waste his time on something as dumb as playing ‘catch’ with his grandkid? Yet, somehow as he watched the coyote shuffle through the paper of the wrappings to steal not the instructed two, but three of the steaks he had brought, something in him broke.

Oh geez pull yourself together Mortimer. This is not the time or place. It's just a stupid game.

Sinking to his knees and burying his face in his sleeve, Morty tried to hide his wobbling lip and runny nose from holding in the tears. It took a moment, but Rick slowly paused in his meal, messy muzzle tilting up from the meat to sniff, inspecting the boy. Digging his face deeper into his sleeve, Morty held his shaky breath low and still as he silently wished for the coyote to stop looking at him. It worked and Rick went back to his food with a sharp scoffing exhale.

Grabbing the remaining three steaks that Rick hadn't touched yet and wrapping them back up, Morty marched over to the fridge to put them away, only to find the fridge was warm. It was plugged in, lights on and running, but sat nearly empty inside with nothing more than a few old petri dish samples in it at the same temperature as the rest of the room. He kicked the damn thing in frustration.

A short howl from behind him mocked his double failed plans, and Morty decided he'd had enough of things not going his way. Tossing the meat on the nearby counter, he went back to the lab and dug through Rick's belongings for a toolbox. Returning, with a rag and a wrench in hand, he shoved himself behind the fridge enough to push it forward and then crouched down to inspect the problem. There was clumps of dust and fur caught everywhere in the coil system. It was a tediously careful job trying to clean them without burning himself from how overheated it was back there, and he was so involved in it he nearly jumped out of his skin when Rick's curious snout peered around the fridge at him.

"Ow-owww- shit!" he hissed as the back of his hand hit a coil. He pulled away fast enough that it just flushed a bit pink, but he was too busy coddling his injured hand to notice the coyote's eyes roll before Rick wandered off disinterested. Realizing it was better to unplug the fridge before continuing, Morty set back to work cleaning once the coils had cooled off a bit. When they were all clean, he took the wrench and tried to tighten the loose connection to the compressor. Then he plugged the thing back in and waited.

It still didn't work.

After an outraged yell that echoed up the silo, Morty tossed the wrench across the room in frustration. It hit somewhere with a loud thud. Sighing heavily, he was about to go look for it, when Rick softly trotted back over, dropping the drool covered wrench from his mouth at Morty's feet.

"Did... did you just-?" the boy trailed off as he picked up the slobbered on wrench and weighed it in his hand contemplatively for a moment. Then, experimentally, he threw it again.

For a moment he was met with a very defiant glare, but then to Morty's surprise, Rick went and retrieved the wrench again. This time dropping it more forcefully, as if to declare he would not be fetching it a third time.

"Heh. Good boy." Morty said, perhaps pushing his luck a bit as the coyote skulked off after that looking fairly grumpy. The boy happily took the wrench and went back to work on the fridge.

It took him most the night, but the kid eventually got it running again. Once he finished with the fridge and stored the remaining meat safely inside, Morty found his grandpa curled up sleeping messily on his lonely cot bed, blankets strewn on the floor nearby. Covering the old werecoyote with the blanket, he left the orange chew toy on the bedside dresser before heading home. As he switched the generator to the lower backup mode on his way out, he could have nearly sworn he’d heard a squeak of a ball being chewed on echoing from below.

 

When he came back a few nights later after his test, Morty was pleased to find the rag he’d cleaned the fridge with had been rigged to help yank the handle of the fridge door open, and the meat inside had all been eaten. The squeaky toy had also been very well chewed upon. That night, they agreed to playing fetch outside under the desert moon.


End file.
